PROMETHEUS BOUND.
7
Thy well-loved mortals can deliver thee
From all these woes. The gods have named thee falsely
Prometheus the Provider, who thyself
Need'st a provider for escaping hence.
Prometheus alone.
And river founts, and dimples numberless
Of oceanic waves—all-fost'ring earth,
And, all-beholding sun, on thee I call,
Behold me, what I bear—a god, from gods.
Behold me, by what anguish worn,
These eyes of mine shall weary turn
Unto time's myriad years.
So harsh a chain of suffering,
Hath form'd for me heav'n's new-made king!
Alas! alas! my tears
Alike for present and for future flow!—
Where lies the bound'ry of my mighty woe?
